It Could Have Happened
by SocialisesWithBooks
Summary: *Allegiant spoilers* David. Staring. Standing right in front of her. A struggle for power leaving Tris fighting for consciousness and her own memories. The rest of the Bureau can't afford to let her escape and start a war, so they devised a plan to send Tris out into the real world with a new personality and new memories. Can she remember the past before the past remembers her?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I'm continuing this story after putting it down a few times. Woo hoo! So if you've ever heard a story like this before this is _my_ original story, and I haven't copied anyone. I'd just like to thank you all for being so patient and waiting for me :)**

_Full Summary:_

_*A/U Allegiant spoilers* This story takes off from the third book when Tris meets David in the Weapons Lab. The Bureau may have been slightly effected by the memory serum Tris set off, but it wasn't enough to change their opinions on the. Now the Bureau has plans to send Tris out into the real world to eliminate her as a threat. They will reset her memory, along with Four's, Christina's and many of her friends. Will reset identities and new purposes they are turned on each other, fighting for what they believe in. Every thing about our world is different than the Bureau lied for reasons unknown. Will they ever be able to break free of the flase lives they are captured in?_

**Chapter 1**

**Tris' P.O.V.**

I hit the ground, hard. Not seconds later I hear gun shots firing in the background, but that's not where my attention is focused. Army crawling across the floor, I search for cover. I hear David's gun fire. Pain sears through my right foot as I scream at the top of my lungs. I can think of plenty of words to say to David, but none that will actually help my cause.

I crawl behind a corner and slowly rise from the floor, resting my body against the wall. I keep both hands up and use my head to peek around the corner. As soon as I see David I notice the gun he is pointing at me, from a distance of roughly ten metres. There was no use in hiding, he already knew where I was. Slowly and cautiously I step out from behind the wall.

This is it. This is my fate. I thought I was ready; I'm not. A few tears escape my eyes, and I don't bother to hold it back. My body feels heavy from the poison. It weighs me down like a thousand broken promises. Then I push out what will likely be my last words.

"Won't. Get. Away. With. This." Pushing out those words is like trying to talk under water. You know exactly what you're saying and your purpose is clear. Yet no one can understand what you mean. No one can help you if you cannot communicate with them. I am speaking these words to him underwater. My purpose is clear, but to David, my purpose seems a waste. This 'damaged' world needs fixing, and he is prepared to sacrifice thousands of lives in order to come out with a 'good' result. This so called 'good' is nothing but evil.

"Oh, don't worry," he says. And by the tone of his voice he isn't worried the slightest bit, "we _won't_ let _you_ get away with this."

He pulls back the trigger of his gun, and I hear the bullet click in place. Then he fires.

But I haven't come this far for nothing. Prepared for his action, I dive sideways and look back in the direction of the bullet, which had punctured one of the cans of memory serum that lay stacked neatly behind me. The hiss coming from the hole in the can distracts me, as the white mist sprays into the air.

Different voices are shouting words in my head, and one reminds me of what Matthew once told Four. One can, if used correctly, has enough to reset roughly two-thousand memories. We'd only need around 10 cans the reset the Bureau, but a lot more if we wanted to reset Chicago.

As the deadly chemicals fill my lungs I notice how lightheaded I feel. I'm dizzy, too incapable I don't now how I'm still breathing. I can feel every inch of my body pleading for mercy. The pain is dull, yet excruciating at the same time.

David lets out a small laugh, a grin on his face. "Dodging a bullet? It's difficult, I'll give you credit, but it's going to take a_ lot_ more than that to bring down the Bureau," he mocks. "Did you really think I came here without inoculating myself against the memory serum too? Honestly Tris,' he shakes his head sighing. 'I thought we taught you better than that."

I flinch. He shouldn't even know my name. He only knows because he was watching my whole life on a screen and didn't do a damn thing about it. He let thousands of innocent people die, and he didn't care. David just sat and watched, broadcasting our lives to countless others who looked at us like we were lab rats. He watched us bleed to death, crying for the comfort of our loved ones, praying that the tears would end soon.

He deserves to die a painful death.

I turn my head back to David, anger slowly bubbling in my veins, and start looking around the room for options, but I become frustrated quickly. The Bureau made a whole room dedicated to weapons, and yet they didn't bother to put one single gun inside it? Then I recall what David said. He was expecting me. He could have removed the guns so that my hands could not pull the trigger that would bring down the Bureau.

I feel so stupid for leaving my gun in the hallway during such a dangerous operation. Of course there would be more obstacles. Did I really think it would be that easy?

I remember his gun. His weapon. His protection. I have none. It makes me feel safer knowing that David has shot four bullets, and his gun holds five. He has one bullet left. But then again, it only takes one bullet to kill.

My eyes notice the hooks lining the left wall of the weapons lab; the wall David stands in front of. They are spaced at regular intervals and are shaped like hooks. My eyes holt as they spot the luck I was looking for. One gun, still left on its hook, is the only thing I need. My eyes run over its shiny, metallic surface, and find that it's not filled with bullets. Instead it's filled with a foreign red liquid I have never seen before. A paper sign taped to the aluminium wall behind it reads _"testing in progress: celer actiō liquidum venenum."_

I don't know what it will do, but I know that it is the best protection I could ask for. The only thing is… David.

Standing, well sitting actually, between myself and the gun is David. He has a distressed look on his face, probably wondering whether he should lock me up and leave me here with only the death serum as company, or finish me off himself to make sure that there is no chance I will get my hands on the serum.

But he is wrong.

I will release the memory serum.

**—**

**- END OF CHAPTER -**

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**A/N: **Just for future reference, I usually (try to) have chapters that are over the 1000 word count, and hopefully more. [I also update on a weekly basis if I'm not too busy with school work]

**For all of you who liked this story and followed/favourited it before, please don't hesitate to do it again. Please leave a review, it's very special to authors and it only take two words! Thank you so much for your support!**

**My last note is: Thank you to my awesome and super-skilled beta reader, shards-of-darkness. They a really great job and neatening up your work and correcting any mistakes. They are also a very good at being a human thesaurus! Thank you once more! **

**~SocialisesWithBooks**


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

**Tris' P.O.V.**

I slowly back away from David, fast enough for him to notice, but slow enough not to question why. I look out of the corner of my eye and see that the hissing memory air sole can is just within my grasp. Weighing up my chances, I move swiftly and grab the can.

I remember what Tobias told me during Dauntless initiation.

"You don't have much muscle, which means you're better off using your knees and elbows. You can put more power behind them."

But I can't be worried about that now, although I am glad it was speed instead strength. Now is the time I need it most.

With as much power as I can possible muster, I throw the can at David. Before he is capable of reacting, it hurls towards his face and hits him on the cheek, landing on the cold concrete floor with a rattle. The vapour stings his open eyes, and he yells out, rubbing them from the pain. His gun falls from his hands, and he notices the second the gun strikes the floor with a clatter.

He jerks his head up, opening his eyes to meet mine, and for a split second we stare at each other deeply. His eyes are cold and hard, showing no mercy. He is not waiting for me to move first. It is in this moment that I feel I have been exposed to the real David. He is a coward. A coward who is willing to kill to get what he wants. To him, his actions have no consequences.

He reaches down for his gun as I take off in the direction of my objective, but he makes a quick move. He knocks the tip of his weapon into my temple, breaking the skin from the heat and force. I grunt and fall to the ground, grabbing the red gun on my way down, breaking the hook. I twist my body, and shoot at David. A small red vile dispatches from the gun and hits him on the arm. Six needle-like claws then spread out from the vile, making it look like an insect. They pierce his skin, latching on so that he cannot escape this fate. I watch in horror as he grits his teeth, groaning.

I rest my back on the cool metal wall, preparing to stand up and leave at my first chance. But David is also prepared.

He speaks harshly through his teeth. "If I go down, you're coming down with me." He says, clutching his arm, clawing desperately at the vile, trying to detach the poison. I can now see why. His veins have started turning red as the liquid surges through them and is drained from the vile. His stumbles out of his wheelchair and onto the floor as the liquid surges through his veins, so luminous I can see it through his skin. As the poison leaves his veins they start turning a dark grey, almost black. The skin around his grey veins have become wrinkled and flakey, like the skin of an old soul. Then he starts coughing uncontrollably.

I can see it coming. He makes his last attempt, points his gun at my head, and shoots his last bullet at me. I scream, and prepare for the worst, shielding my face with my arm blocking David's gun from my view. My arm, too close to my head, is knocked back into my face from the impact of the bullet, causing my nose to bleed heavily. As the bullet pierces the skin of my arm and buries itself deep into my bone, I let out my final scream and inhale my last breath. I repeat the sound of my cracking bone in my head.

I have no control over my body. I hear my head slamming into the floor. I feel my heart slowing. Red liquid pouring out of my body. Blood. My body; frozen, but my eyes still open. My eyes fixed on David's face.

"After all, I just shot you with a memory serum bullet." He manages to squeeze out before collapsing in a heap on the floor.

His eyes are still open, the veins red from the spray or the poison, I don't know. They were once blue, but now they are turning grey. Then the red liquid drains itself from his eyes and travels via blood vessels down to his mouth, and out of his body. It looks exactly like blood, I think to myself, as it pools out onto the concrete floor.

David is only a memory now. He was, not is. Just like Al.

Red flashing lights and alarms are going off all around me, making my head pound. I can't think of anything other than Help! and Get me out of here! Whatever the serum I used was...It worked, but whatever he used must be working on me.

But it can't be, I'm Divergent, and he knows that. I should be able to resist this, but something in me doubts that I can. I can resist the strongest of the serums, what's to say I can't resist this?

Will I become a memory?

**—**

**- END OF CHAPTER -**

**—**

**A/N: Just wanted to tell you all that my chapters aren't usually this short, but when I get deeper into the story, when there will be less suspense, I will write longer chapters. But I must warn you all I am not a fast writer.**

**Please review as just a few words will make my day. It doesn't even take 10 seconds! I'd really appreciate some constructive criticism, but no flames, and would love to hear from you and what you think of my story.**

**Thank you once again to my ****marvellous Beta reader, shards-of-darkness! Thank you for doing a awesome job at neating up my work, correcting mistakes, and making suggestions where ever you can to help improve my writing.**

**~SocialisesWithBooks**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Make sure to follow and/or favourite if you like this and review if you have some good writing tips up your sleeves or some constructive criticism (must be constructive).**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 3<strong>

**Tris' P.O.V.**

My eyes; heavy. My head; pounding.

I pry my eyelids open and push myself from the floor into a sitting position. I look around at my surroundings. Grey walls, unpolished concrete floor, dusty smell. This is the weapons lab. Why am I still in the weapons lab? I thought they would have taken me by now. I shake my head to clear my thoughts. I rub my head before looking at my hand. No blood?

I glance the floor. David. _He was right there, his face centimetres from mine. _Right there. This can't be happening. This can't be happening._ His blood had stained the floor._ I see no blood here. _My gun in my hand as I pressed my head to the ground._ My hand is empty. Nothing here feels right.

The weapons lab is deserted… Cold… Silent. No guns hang on the racks behind the place David stood. His blood is gone, and so is he. Everything in the lab, the can of memory serum, his gun, _my_ gun. Gone. This place is empty.

I shift my gaze to the stainless steel door. It's bolted shut, from the outside. I get up and slowly walk over to it. There is nothing I can use to try and pry it open. "HELP!" I shout, praying that one of the GD's hear me. Praying I will not have to face pain upon my discovery.

I have no way out.

Then I realise who did this. The Bureau. They will kill me. They will torture me until I crumble in their very hands. They will be the end of me.

I don't know exactly when it happens, but after a minute of silent despair, my scream echoes off the walls of the weapons lab. It seems to stretch on for minutes, hours, eternity. The only eyes in this room are full of unshed tears. I squeeze them shut tight as I struggle to breathe. I repeat the words over in my head. _This isn't real. This never happened._

In my mind I'm back home at my Abnegation house. I see it for the thousandth time._ Robert sits beside me, asking how my day was. I tell him it was good. He bows his head to our children, welcoming them home after finishing their initiation. There was no war. We live in peace._

_ Can't peace have a place in this world?_

**Tobias' P.O.V.**

Our mission has succeeded. Evelyn and Marcus have made an agreement. That was more than I could've ever hoped for.

As I get out the back door of the truck, I step into the foot deep snow and half-walk, half-run towards the Bureau to greet Tris. My head darts from left to right, looking for the unmistakeable short blond hair that I am all too familiar with. My heart sinks slightly as I see only one set of snowy footprints. Does she even know that we're here?

I slowly walk towards Cara, pulling my feet up with effort after every step. Cara stands to welcome us alone, shivering from the cold.

Tris wouldn't have done anything unpredictable while we were gone, would she? I push the thought out of my mind, shaking my head to reassure myself.

Cara stands unaccompanied with a grievous look on her face. I hear feet shuffling in the snow, joining me to face Cara. I feel Christina's hand slip into mine and she squeezes it; I'm not the only one who senses the tension in the air.

Before, I never would've thought I would become friends with a Candor. That would require opening up about your deepest and darkest secrets, but somehow, Christina doesn't make me feel that way. She reminds me of Uriah. Serious so often, but nobody realises it. She's friendly and kind and checks off all the boxes of a good friend.

"Hey," I say to Cara dragging it out to emphasise my confusion, "Where's Tris? Shouldn't she be here?" Christina whips her head in my direction for being so blunt, giving me a look as if to say 'Go easy on the emotions'. I guess the Candor part of her sensed that Cara doesn't really want to talk about it, but Cara knows her responsibilities. I look over Cara's shoulder, completely ignoring her, as if expecting Tris to appear, waiting there for me and the others. All I can see is a thick layer of snow covering every inch of the ground. Everything looks normal. Nothing looks… Forgotten.

Cara crosses her arms over her chest, turning around slowly, before walking back in the direction of the building. For a moment, I thought she was just going to leave us here in the snow, with so many unanswered questions, until she slowly turns around again. She's obviously finding this difficult to spit out. It hits me that, of course, she can't say it. She doesn't want to. Tris isn't here. Cara is alone. Tris isn't ok.

She the looks up from the floor for a second. "Follow me."

Her eyes speak louder than her words, 'There was an accident'. My heart momentarily stops when she finally says something.

She trudges back to the Bureau. "Tris went into the lab instead of Caleb, She held him at gun point." she chokes out.

I was hoping she would prove my expectations wrong. This wasn't part of the plan. Tris was just supposed to escort Caleb to the Lab with Matthew, and then leave him to do his job. It doesn't take a genius, after all she's done it before. I trusted her, and she chose to sacrifice herself instead. As far as I know, she didn't succeed. She was so close to shutting down the Bureau, but missed.

My heart needs someone to blame, so I grab Cara's shoulders and turn her towards myself as I shout to her face. "What did _you _do?" She could have stopped it. They all could have stopped it. They could have saved her. Caleb deserved to go in instead. I then realise how wrong I could be. She could have walked away with a few broken ribs, maybe a concussion?

I take a deep breath in. "No, I'll find her myself." I lift the blame from Cara, and take quick strides towards the entrance. I need to find her, I need to see her. I want to know how badly she's hurt. Is she dead? Is she alive?

Eventually, I notice tears slowly making their way down my face, and I don't care if shedding tears makes me look weak. What's wrong with shedding a few tears after all?

I slow down to a jog and rack my brain for answers. I never thought I'd really want to know where the infirmary is as fast as I do now, but I was wrong.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you so much for reading my story! ****Don't forget to leave a review if you liked this, because it really encourages me to write faster.**

**I'd also like to send out a thank you to me very skilled Beta reader, shards-of-darkness. She does a great job at picking up on my mistakes and neatening up my writing. ****To those of you who were wondering why I wasn't writing:**

**a) I've gotten back to reading actual books, and I finally read Mockingjay (after reading the first two Hunger Games of course). I'd read the first two before, but knew what happened in the third book, so I only got half way through it before I stopped reading it. I figured if I didn't read about the death, then they may not have actually died. Yeah, so I was very sad at the end of that book. **

**b) I've had a bit of a cold (which I am know over). Don't you just _love_ that feeling of thick slimy mucus dripping down the back of your already froggy throat? **

**I also want to warn you that I am in fact a slow writer, because I have quite a bit of homework, sport (netball and aths) and other hobbies (including writing) going on.**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter of "It Could Have Happened"!**

**~SocialisesWithBooks**


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